Bluff.

Chapter 3.

            A week passed. My father and I don't mention the laughing/bonding session we had, but the tensions aren't as strong. In that week, we only had one argument, and it was a little one, where we just ended with "agree to disagree". He does, however, do this annoying thing where he randomly "suggests" places I can meet people. He brought up a shopping mall twice and a park 4 times, even though I am very much dog less so my being there randomly walking is, to say the least, pointless. Instead, I sit with my new laptop (I don't know what make it is Dad said it was good, it's got DELL on the front and is like really white). I usually do "teenager" stuff, surf YouTube, reblog on tumblr and sometimes if I am feeling brave I tweet on Twitter. However, the time comes when I have to return to the Victim Support Group. As usual, 7pm, on a Wednesday, "rain, hail, sleet, or snow!" I haven't been in the group long enough to know whether or not it sticks to that. Today, however, it is raining, and I show up in a blue jacket and jeans, walk in, and notice that the group is still going ahead, although a few people did not show up today. There are the usual seats arranged in a circle, with a table for water, tea, and juice about 8 feet away. I sit down quietly, in a different seat to my usual, directly across from it because my normal seat was taken by some guy I hadn't seen before. I scowled at him. He caught the glare and blinked at me, confused. He turned his head away and stared at the wall behind me. I felt guilty, so stopped the glare and watched people slowly walk in, all alone, all at slightly different stages. No one spoke unless they had to. Leroy passed around a sign-in sheet. I wrote my name; 'Jordan'. I wasn't prepared to choose a new surname or keep my mother's just yet. I was third on the list. The chair-stealing-guy across from me was either 'Neil Lyons', or 'Arian Underwood', if those were the real names of the two boys at all. I glanced up to sneak a look at him, to decide which one he could be. He was stretching to look at the sign-in sheet, trying to see something on it. Leroy caught him staring and gave a weird look; he turned red and returned to view the seemingly very interesting wall. I wondered what he had been looking at – was he looking for my name? Or was he looking before I ever touched the paper?

I asked myself why did I care, and got two answers;

Because he is CUUUTTTEE

Because he may be a stalker who is out to kill people and find out their names that way.

I panicked a little bit – I had written down my actual name rather than a pseudonym. Screw my bad judgement. The paper passed by him, Leroy was giving it to a girl to his right. He "casually" looked at it, found the name he was looking for and smiled in a "thought so" kinda way. Panic again. He has found you... but is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Realising that you lose the ability to care when you think too hard = Average Teenager. Guess I still have that about me.

This week, the stories were remarkably uninteresting. Three of the same speakers as last week repeated themselves; two muggings and a witness to a bank robbery from 23 years ago, Leroy as always told his whole story he once "sat in the same seat you are in now" pointing at the one to my left – the girl sitting in it had been going to the group longer than me and didn't even flinch. The guy, who I learned was "Arian" refused to share, as people always do on their first day. I was surprised Leroy asked him at all because it was clear he was not capable yet. I left my seat twice for a drink because it gave me something to do. I was pouring my second cup of water when a middle-aged woman burst in. She was older than any of us; our group was strictly under 21's as an attempt to keep drinking out of the group. She went straight to Leroy, which I noted meant she knew the group well, whispered a single line into his ear, and then left hurriedly. I realised that the further away she got, the louder she cried – when she entered, she was determined but by the time she left the building she was hunched over in pain. We all looked to Leroy expectantly. He stood up, then sat down again, then stood up, paced, and returned to his seat. Finally he mustered up the ability to speak.

"A member of our group lost the battle last night."

A few gasps, including me. Some of the more accustomed members of the group barely blinked. A few heads were turning, trying to figure out who was the loss. I also searched, looking at all the regulars and confused as to who it could be. When it dawned on me, I let out a little scream. Three heads turned. I was still standing, but the cup fell and splashed all over the floor. More heads turned. I awkwardly tumbled to my seat and sat down and put my head in my hands. I muttered the name, only the girl next to me heard it because the seat to my right was empty. She, for the first time that night, reacted to something. She stared at me for a second, then spun her head around looking for the person whose name I uttered. Her face fell and in that instant, she knew I was right. She realised I wouldn't be able to say it any louder than I did, so she coughed, straightened, and said the name of the boy who we lost.

"Carlos Vasquez".

The boy who I spoke to less than a week beforehand.

After a minute of silence in the room, I suddenly jumped up and ran out, hoping the boy's Mom was still outside. I needed to tell her that her kid was a really good one. I briefly thought that might make it worse, then reminded myself that for her, it couldn't get any worse. I ran down the steps and found her in her car, wailing. I knocked on her window but she didn't hear me. I opened her door, and this time she did. She flinched, and then yelled at me to go sell my bullshit product to someone else. I had to laugh a little, at which point she yelled again and slammed the door back closed. I turned away; realising there was nothing I could do. I walked back to the building where no doubt Leroy was talking about "how important life is and to cherish those in it with you because they won't be there forever". I heard a deafening bang, but didn't turn around. I knew exactly what it was. But I was not willing to look once more at what a gun was capable of. I silently returned to my seat in the room, and listened to Leroy ramble on. He repeatedly asked if anyone wanted to share their story. No one was in a sharing mood, however, so for the last ten minutes, all there was in the room was an awkward silence. Some of us were ok with that.

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